After Dark
by derpette-Waffle
Summary: Dan is kicked out of his home and has nowhere to go. He ends up caught in the harsh life of a homeless teen in the big city. Phil knows the streets like the back of his hand and knows all the means of living there. He takes innocent Dan under his wing and tries to keep him away from dangers that come with this sordid life.
1. Chapter 1

**DAN**

I knew how creepy the clinic could get at night, when there were no nurses or volunteers or patients filling up the place. My parents had told me to never be there alone, because there was no telling what kind of people might show up trying to break in. They didn't need to tell me twice; the place was eerie as hell. I never would've gone back that night if I hadn't forgotten my homework, and wouldn't be able to get it before it was due the next day.

I pulled my coat tighter around me. It was freezing cold, but the clinic was only a block further, and warm, and maybe I could stay there a little while before the ten-minute trek back to my building. As long as I could slip back into the apartment before my parents woke and realized I was gone, I figured it would be no huge trouble.

I was almost there when I was forced to stop in my tracks, at the sight of someone sitting outside the building. After the initial shock, I managed to slowly move closer step by step, and see the slumped figure a little better. He looked maybe about my age, with pale skin and dark hair visible under the nearby streetlight. My breath caught in my throat when I realized that he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, both tattered, and I had to wonder for a minute, was he maybe… dead? I was wary of approaching a stranger like this, in the dead of night on a near empty street, but I needed to check if he was okay.

"Hey!" I called from the corner, shaking. He didn't respond. I mustered up my courage and rushed for him, worried he was maybe still alive but could die of hypothermia before I stepped into action. "Hey, are you alright?" I knelt down beside him and nudged him carefully. He didn't fall over like a dead boy might've done, so I was grateful. "Hey!" I shook his shoulder and heard a low groan in return. I was starting to shake a little more, but not so much out of fear now.

The boy lifted his head like he'd only been sleeping, skin sheet white and ice cold, but his sparkling blue eyes were too alert to be in any apparent danger of freezing to death.

"What are you doing here?" I asked gently, genuinely intrigued and wanting to help.

He pushed his black matted hair out of his eyes. "I-I came to get tested, but it was already closed when I got here." He sniffed, probably sick with a cold after being out here so long. Has he really been waiting out here all night?

I patted his shoulder and stood back up, reaching a hand out to help him up. "Come on, let's get you inside and out of the cold." It took him a moment, but he reluctantly took my outstretched hand and I help him to his feet, my free hand pulling the key out of my pocket and turning it in the lock. I opened the door and led him in, turning to lock it back up behind me.

He sat down in one of the waiting room chairs, arms crossed against his front and hunched over a bit. It was much warmer inside, and I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders. "Here; it's warmer in here but it's not gonna be enough to counteract hours of you sitting out in the freezing cold." I tried to hand it to him to put on, but he just stared up at me with a glint in his eyes, and I didn't press for him to act. But I couldn't let him continue to go cold, either. I drape my coat around him, which he didn't protest or thank me for.

I sat down in the chair opposite him, giving him a few minutes to relax and hopefully tell me what was wrong. He tugged the jacket tighter around himself, scowling a bit and eyes cast down to the floor. I tried to placate him, and carefully asked him what was wrong. "You said you came to be tested for something?" He nodded stiffly, not looking at me once. "What for?"

"This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come here." He pushed my coat off and headed for the door. I knew even then that I shouldn't have, that this was overstepping and would only really make him more uncomfortable, but I grabbed his wrist and kept him in place. He hit my hand away –hard— and ran for the door but crashed into it instead. The glass broke in a small spot, sounding the alarms. I ran to the reception desk to turn it off before it woke the neighborhood. When I hurried back to the boy I saw he'd been cut on the broken glass, his arm sliced and bloody. He seemed unfazed but didn't continue to try to leave. He turned to me, only looking me in the eye for a second before scowling at the floor again, and then at his bleeding arm.

"I'm sorry," I lamented. He probably wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had just let him go. "Come on; let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

And surprisingly, he didn't fight me this time. He allowed me to lead him gently back to the examination room to mend him up a bit.

* * *

"My name's Dan," I told him, trying to distract him from the sting. It was only water on a minor wound, and he didn't seem to be in pain at all, but it was still messy and he didn't need to focus on his own flesh cut like that. "What's yours?"

He didn't answer for a long time; and I was halfway through bandaging the wound, and thinking he wasn't going to respond at all, when he finally gave me an answer. "Phil," he said quietly. I smiled –maybe we were finally getting somewhere, and he'd start to give me the answers I needed to help him properly. "Aren't you a little young to be a nurse?" he asked deadpan.

I shrugged, nodding a little. "Yeah, but I'm not a nurse. My parents run the clinic so I help out when I can."

He shifted at that, and I was going to ask him to hold still when he kept talking. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," I answered, taping the bandage in place. "There we go." I sat down in front of him again, waiting until he finally made eye contact to ask again. "What did you need to get tested for? I can't do it myself, but I can come back in the morning and make sure you get attended to first thing." I don't know why I said that; I had class first thing, and just an hour ago I'd been panicky over not being able to pick up my homework in the morning. Nonetheless, I stuck to what I said, as dumb as it may have been to say.

He looked away again, rubbing his arm. I accepted that I was only going to get certain answers out of him. I leaned forward a little and tried to speak as gently as possible. "You know, if you're gonna be looked at in the morning, you're gonna need to tell them what it is you're looking to be tested for. If you don't want to tell me, I understand, but it might be good practice to say it out loud. Whatever it is, I won't judge. I want to help you, Phil, okay?"

At length, he nodded slowly. "I… I need to get tested for some STDs…"

I nodded, smiling to reassure him that it was okay and nothing to be ashamed of. "Okay. Do you know which one –or ones— you're worried about?"

He shook his head solemnly. "I-I get tested every few months but I haven't come in a while and— this was a mistake, coming here, I'm sorry." He got up to leave but I blocked his way. God, I hoped he didn't think I was crazy, keeping him hear like a hostage or something.

"Phil, it's okay. Don't worry, we'll get you taken care of in the morning, okay?"

He nodded, and I did, too.

I stayed there with him for a while. We didn't talk much, but we talked enough to become sort of friendly. He was starting to seem less anxious, and though I didn't really get too much through to him, I could tell he was very kind, at least.

As sunup approached quickly, I knew I had to leave soon. My parents would be waking soon and if they found me out of the house, I'd really get it. I grabbed my homework from the reception table while Phil was asleep, and returned to the room. I carefully nudged him awake.

"Hey, I have to go now, but you stay here, okay? Go back to sleep. I'm gonna leave a note for the nurse who will be here in an hour or so. I'll tell her that you came last night and needed to stay, and that I stayed with you a while and let you stay asleep in here. She'll come and help you out, have you tested and you'll be set in no time. Okay?"

He nodded tiredly, and in another second was out again. I tore a page from my notebook and scribbled the note, leaving it on the reception desk as I headed out. I wondered for a moment if I'd ever see Phil again. I kind of hoped I would.


	2. Chapter 2

I was walking home from school that afternoon, minding my own business, when I saw the strangest thing. We lived in a pretty nice area of the city, so I'd never been properly exposed to violence like this. And by many standards, it was pretty mild, but it still shook me quite a bit –especially recognizing exactly who was being battered.

We hadn't known each other very long, but there was no mistaking that Phil was the one tossed down the stoop of a nearby motel. After the initial shock, and watching him try to get himself up, I made to rush to him to help. But a tall figure stepped out of the doorway, stomping down the few stairs and yanking my… friend, to his feet. I saw him say some words to Phil –menacingly, if Phil's reaction was anything to go by— slap him across the face, and throw him back down. I looked around; the street was otherwise empty for a few blocks, no one around to put this man in his place.

When the man went back inside, slamming the door shut behind him, I watched rather helplessly as Phil tried to get himself back up. He lifted his head and caught my eye, and I caught the bruising on his face and the redness in his eyes.

And then two girls were thrown out in much the same way Phil had been, but the man didn't get so close when he spoke to them –he let them lie on the ground, kicking one a bit when she tried to get up. "Next time maybe you'll earn your keep," he said aloud, and went back in for the final time I saw.

Once I figured the coast was clear, I took a step closer, close enough to address them clearly. "Hey. I work at a clinic, do you want to maybe come get checked out?"

The girls looked sort of scared and got to their feet, and ran down the street in robes. I winced for them. I'd hoped maybe Phil would tell them that it was alright, that I could be trusted enough to take them to get help, but he had his face pressed down on the sidewalk. Hoping he'd at least trust me, I moved forward more confidently, and squatted down beside him, taking him by the shoulders to try to get him up. He yanked himself from my grasp and jumped to his feet, knocking me over. I was still a bit stunned as he ran off the same as the girls had done, and in the same direction.

I looked up and told myself to remember the name of the place. "The Monroe…"

* * *

"What do you know about the Monroe Motel?" I asked my father when I got to the clinic.

"The Monroe Motel?" I nodded, watching him flip through a stack of papers while I sipped at my soda. He answered absently, "Doesn't ring a bell; at least, nothing specific comes to mind. Why?"

"No reason."

I went to my mother. "What do you know about the Monroe Motel?"

"What's that sweetheart?" She was leading a drug addict to the back room to relax a while before being checked on. "The… Monroe Motel? Never heard of it."

"It's between here and the school."

She laughed. "There's a lot of places between here and your school, sweetie. Go make sure the waiting room isn't in chaos, alright?"

I nodded and went back to the front of the clinic. Seeing everything looked in order, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and googled the place –no results, at least none of interest. I figured that I could let the matter go, and that it was nowhere of consequence.

I was quiet at dinner that night, pushing my peas and potatoes around on the plate.

"How was school?" I was asked out of routine more than actual curiosity. I shrugged and didn't give a verbal answer until my father gave me a stern look that I didn't want to keep on receiving.

"It was okay: same old, same old. I have a lot of homework to do." I wiped my mouth of nothing, having barely touched my plate at all.

My mother smiled and started to clear the table. "Well, get right to that, then. And don't forget to brush your teeth and everything before you go to sleep.

I nodded and said goodnight, and went to my room to get some work done.

* * *

I was still wet from the shower, and the minty taste was starting to fade in my mouth. I laid awake in bed that night, tossing and turning as sleep just wouldn't come to me. By midnight I'd given up on it altogether, and started to wonder about Phil and his relation to that Monroe Motel. Maybe he lived there. Maybe that man was his father and the girls were his sisters or something; maybe his dad was an asshole and threw them out. I winced, and hoped they'd be allowed back home soon. I wanted to sneak out and go check that he was alright, but what could I do? Peek inside and hope I saw him? There was no way to know that the three of them were safe.

I didn't know what the likelihood of him living there was, anyway. I'd figured Phil was probably homeless when I found him waiting outside the clinic all night, out in the cold in nothing but the least of clothing layers. Phil wasn't the first homeless person, or even homeless teen that I'd dealt with, working at the clinic. But he was the first one I'd been able to have conversation with, and at first he'd seemed to trust me enough to let me help him. He didn't seem mentally ill or unstable like a lot of our patients could be, especially those living on the streets. Maybe he was just part of a family that had been struck with some bad luck, and now they had nowhere to go. This was making it seem much less likely that that was his family at the motel, but if not, who were they?

I decided not to question it. I was probably giving this way too much thought and concern. Yes, I'd like to help, but there didn't seem to be too much I could really do. At least, not until I ran into Phil again –and that might never happen.

I stumbled out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom, and took a pill to get me to sleep. As soon as I sunk back into my mattress and pillows, I was lights out.


	3. Chapter 3

**- TWO YEARS LATER -**

When your parents catch you watching porn – when your parents walk in on you jacking off to porn – when your homophobic parents walk in on their son jacking off to two men fucking each other –you know how the story goes. Hell breaks loose, the neighbors start wondering what the hell is causing all the ruckus, and a once beloved child is exiled to the streets.

That first week was rather traumatic. I spent a good chunk of it hiding away, crying. My family –all I had in the world— didn't want me anymore. That life was all I knew, and everything was suddenly uprooted. I was sixteen and homeless, all because of something I couldn't change: something I would if I could. They told me not to come back to the clinic, either; that I wasn't welcome to work there anymore. That made two hard blows in one night. I didn't even have time to pack my bags, wasn't allowed back in my bedroom. Heading down the stairs that night, stumbling weakly, I knew I may never see my room or anything in it, or my home, or my family ever again.

I took what money I had out of the bank before my parents could empty my funds, the money I'd earned at work. I spent it sparingly –a cheap motel room across town, and dollar-store food and toiletries. Those were what I deemed necessities, but it didn't last long. What little I had quickly ran out, and I was faced with cold reality. No money, no job –no food, no shelter to be found. I was walking down the sidewalk one day, freezing cold and wet from rain. Everything was slowly starting to sink in. I didn't know what I was going to do –how was I going to survive?

I lifted my chin and wiped at my eyes. I knew there were probably hundreds of homeless people in this city alone: the mentally ill, drug addicts at rock bottom, families –families with little children— and teenagers all on their own in the world. I had no right to snivel like this. I told myself I'd make it, somehow.

I'd wandered the city all night in search of shelter, and by morning found nothing of the sort. Desperate and tired, I tucked into the alley between two tall buildings. The stench behind the dumpster was almost unbearable, but it was warm enough that if I covered myself with some cardboard like a blanket, I would probably be able to get some much needed sleep.

* * *

"The jackass must've thrown it in here."

I woke up to a voice and nearby rustling. I blinked my eyes open drearily, and at length got to my feet, peeking over the edge of the dumpster to see what was going on. There was someone inside rummaging through the bags of trash, looking for something, though I couldn't imagine what.

I cursed my urge to help people as it settled in, and I voiced concern to the searching stranger. "Um, what are you looking for? Maybe I could help find it."

"I'm sure some asshole I was with last night took my wallet and threw it in here on his way out." He sounded angry enough, but spoke kindly to me, probably grateful for the offer to help in the search. "You can help look, if you want. Tannish leather, 's got my name written in Sharpie on the outside."

He looked up to me, piercing blue eyes peeking through matted black hair. I was taken aback for a moment. He was far too familiar for it to be a coincidence, but too nervous to ask for his name, I'd have to find it, instead. And so I started digging through the garbage bags from where I stood on the outside.

"Too dainty to get in and dig?" he asked sharply, sort of teasingly. I blushed. Yes, I was still too new to this kind of life to get right down and dirty with the trash, and his words wouldn't change that too soon. I didn't climb in like he probably wanted to; there didn't seem to be room inside, anyway.

I was more than a little surprised to be the one who actually found it, squeezed between the rusted wall of the container and a hefty black trash bag. I pulled it out and looked it over a minute. By his description, it was definitely his, but the name I found didn't match what I'd been hoping for. He was still digging, unaware I'd found it, when I asked, "Your name is Kitten?"

His head shot up, a hand shot out and grabbed it from me. His eyes lit up at having found it, and his shoved it into the back pocket of his tattered jeans. "Uh, yeah, what of it?"

"Um, it's just…" I had to think for a moment –and could only think for a moment— about whether or not to bring up that time we might have met, if he was indeed the kid I'd found outside the clinic. "Nothing, I thought you looked like someone I met a while ago. I worked at a clinic, and one night I found someone waiting outside in the cold, needing to be tested for STDs. I took him inside and we talked for a while. I wonder where he is now…" I looked at him a while, taking in his response.

He just stood on his hands and knees for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He sat back on his heels and swallowed hard. "No… That- That was me." He laughed awkwardly, a small smile remaining on his lips.

I grinned back at him, hoping to have finally found a friend in this new and awful situation. He could very well prove to be my saving grace, by all accounts. "Good to see you again, Phil."

* * *

We went to McDonald's, his treat. Once we sat down –we both relished the warmth— Phil was quick to start a casual interrogation. "What are you doing, Dan? Why were you in that alley, sleeping behind a dumpster?" He seemed genuinely concerned, which I was grateful for. I took a bite of my small burger and decided to answer honestly.

"My homophobic parents caught me getting off to gay porn." I figured that would be just about explanation, but just in case, I decided to follow it up. "They kicked me out about a week ago."

"You weren't there last night."

"No, until yesterday I was able to get a little motel room, with the money I made at the clinic. The money's all gone now, and I just needed a place to sleep for a little bit." I popped a fry into my mouth, and noticed he hadn't touched his lunch at all, but didn't mention it. "Why, you were there last night?" He nodded silently, tugging his too thin jacket tighter around his too thin body. "What for?"

He sighed softly and stood up, offering me his fries, which I declined and he threw everything out. "Just… Just stick with me, okay?" His words were shaky but his face was set and confident. "You're too amateur to be on your own yet. I'll keep you from dying of cold or hunger." He reached out a hand to offer it to me, and with little hesitation, I took it.


	4. Chapter 4

My face was beet red when my hand was in his, as Phil led me down the busy streets. This unfamiliar area he told me he'd walked a thousand times before, and told me to take everything in and remember. It was incredibly difficult to focus when I was feeling little sparks fly between our touching palms, up my arm and about to head straight down to my

"You're jailbait, kid, I'm not gonna sleep with you anymore."

I blanched, wondering if he was a mind reader or something, and feeling guilty for thinking impurely about someone I knew so little. I hadn't realized we'd stopped walking until the shock wore off, and it wasn't until even after that that I realized Phil was talking to someone else: a boy maybe a little younger than myself, with dark curly hair and green eyes.

The boy tutted and smirked; "You've changed, Kitty." He hooked his fingers into the collar of Phil's t-shirt and pushed him up against a wall. Phil squeezed my hand a little but seemed to be enjoying what was happening. I watched as the boy's lips traveled down my friend's neck. My first instinct was to give them a minute of privacy, but my hand was still held tight and I wouldn't pry it loose. Honestly, I didn't want to step away. Something I couldn't quite place was boiling in the pit of my stomach, and I was left scowling at the two of them, waiting for them to break apart so we –me and Phil— could move along.

I couldn't imagine they were actually trying to keep quiet as I could hear their whispers.

"You used to let me fuck you at least once a week. I was your favorite cus—"

"And then you weren't legal for me anymore." Phil was starting to try to get out of there, but the kid wasn't letting up.

"That never stopped you before, Kitten," he whispered a bit more quietly into his ear. I still heard it, though.

"I'm not taking any chances, babe. You gotta let it go now." He pushed him away, and this time the kid didn't try to keep him longer. Phil only gave him one last look before tugging me along down the street, walking briskly and acting like nothing had happened. And I tried to pretend it hadn't.

* * *

We ended up very deliberately at the park. Phil kept dragging me along until we came to a little alcove in amongst the dense trees, a sort of a cave between some boulders. He let go of my hand and wiped the sweat on his jeans, dropping down into the gap.

"It's safe to come and sleep here after dark. The tunnels, too, and anywhere else you can stay hidden well. But you gotta be out before sunup, because the rangers come and snoop around, and they'll chase you out. Sometimes they get the police involved and you might be arrested if you're not quick enough. It's not often, but don't run the risk." He laid down a minute on the soft dirt between the rocks. I squatted a little, hands on my thighs as I watched him from the top of one of the boulders.

"Are we sleeping in the park tonight?" I asked, wondering if there would be enough room for the two of us there.

"No, we've got somewhere else tonight." He climbed back up and took my hand again, pulling me back to the edge of the park and out onto the sidewalk, where we started walking south.

"Where?" I asked at last.

"There's a motel room waiting for us."

I bit my lip. "Are there two beds, at least?" I asked nervously.

He laughed shortly. "Yeah, two beds, and about five or six of us in the room."

* * *

We stopped outside the door, and Phil turned to me, face stern and voice quiet. "Remember: watch your mouth, and don't take anything anyone offers you unless I say it's okay. Stay right with me. I'll introduce you to everyone, and then I'm gonna have to step out for a minute" –the thought of being left alone now made me shake— "but I'll be right back, I promise. Later on a tall guy with short hair and a shorter beard is gonna come soon; don't talk to him. He'll try to question why you're here, but just let me do the talking."

I nodded shakily. "O-Okay."

He smiled and squeezed my hand tight. "You'll be fine, don't worry." He unlocked and opened the door, and I followed him in.

Phil was right; there were at least four others to share the room with, all young and reasonably attractive women. Two of them I kind of assumed might've been the ones I saw being thrown from the Monroe Motel so long ago, but I wouldn't be able to tell which –none of them really looked like those girls, as my memory served me.

They all hugged Phil and he started introducing me around: "Sunny," a fresh-faced blonde; "Shiba," a brooding, slightly older woman; "Angel," a smiling pigtailed brunette; and "Bijou," who didn't speak much English. "Everyone, this is Dan." He gestured to me at last, and I waved nervously. "He's gonna stay with us for a while."

"I thought Daddy didn't need any boys but you, Kitten," Sunny chirped, smiling at me and making me look down at the ground. Phil was quick to argue it.

"It's not like that. Dan's parents kicked him out and he has nowhere to stay, so I'm letting him live here with us."

"Daddy's not gonna like it."

"I'll talk him into it, don't worry." He gestured to the bed toward the back. "Go sit down, Dan, I'll just be a minute." I sat down, and before he left he warned the circle of young women to make me feel welcome.

The second he was out the door, the ring of girls moved from their circle around nothing on the floor to circling around me on the bed. They asked loads of questions but they all melted into one another and I couldn't bring myself to answer any, except for why my parents had kicked me out. "Because I'm gay," I stated, and left it at that. I curled in on myself, legs brought up to my chest and face buried in my knees.

Phil returned a little while later and shooed the girls away from me. "Hey. I got you a blanket and pillow to sleep on the floor." He pointed to a small slot between the bed and the wall, where I would be sleeping, apparently. "I mean, you can sleep in the bed for a little while, but you'll have to be out before three in the morning." He arranged everything in the little space, and came up to sit next to me. "You alright?"

I nodded. "Still a bit shaken, I guess," I whispered, knowing the girls would be out of earshot. "It's still kinda sinking in."

He winced sympathetically and rubbed my shoulder. "It'll be alright, okay? I promise."

I nodded, smiling, thankful.

"Daddy's coming," Angel warned from the window.

Phil nodded and got up off the bed. He must've noticed how I was trembling. "It's okay, Dan, don't worry."

"He's not gonna be happy!" Shiba smirked, relaxing on the other bed. "You're gonna get it for this."

Phil huffed, frustrated. "And whatever he gives I'll take it. But I know how to work him, don't worry."

"You think you're so in control…"

It was that moment that the doorknob jiggled and turned, and the door opened to reveal the man Phil had warned me about, had warned me not to answer to. He came in, closing the door behind him and grunting a general greeting. Phil shielded me a bit, so maybe the man hadn't seen me yet. The man –the man they'd been calling "Daddy"— kissed all the girls on the cheeks, and then-.. he might have kissed Phil on the cheek, I didn't quite see it –but it looked like it was his mouth.

The man saw me over Phil's shoulder. "Who's this?" he asked, voice hard and eyes harder.

"A friend. He's gonna stay here, as long as I'm here."

The man glared and sent the girls and myself from the room. I almost wanted to protest, worried for Phil, but was too scared to go against it. Phil could definitely hold his own, and I wouldn't be much help to him against this brute.

Star, Shiba, Angel, Bijou, and I all stood out in the freezing cold. I seemed to be the only one affected by the weather, but even I had to try to ignore it. I was standing closest to the door, and tried to subtly eavesdrop on the conversation inside. "Daddy" sounded angry, but Phil stood his ground –for me.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" – "He's my friend, and he has nowhere to go." – "Why are you so soft to him?" – "Because he helped me out a while back, when I started working for you. And then he tried again when you first threw me out. Now he's been kicked out by his parents, and has nowhere to go, and he's way too soft for street life on his own." – "Is he gonna work?" - "I'll work for him." – A pause. "You're gonna do double or more, for this piece of shit?" – "Damn right." – He laughed. "Alright, then!" A few soft thuds, like he was patting Phil on the shoulder, and then a shout: "Come back in now, all of ya!"

When we got back inside, I wanted to ask Phil what had happened. He just gave me a smile and told me everything was settled, and that I could stay as long as I needed, as long as he was around. I sensed a bit of tension that I didn't want to break, and didn't ask any more questions.

* * *

At about ten, Phil and the man and the girls all left for a while, leaving me alone in the dirty motel room. I tucked myself into the slot made up for me, and fell asleep.

I was awoken again much later, at maybe three-thirty. I peeked around the bed and watched the two older women –Shiba and Bijou— get into the other bed and Angel and Star get ready to sleep on the floor. The bed next to me creaked, and I carefully looked over the mattress to see Phil and the man getting in, Phil on the side closest to me. The man looked tired but happy, and Phil and the girls all just looked incredibly tired.

The lights went out and I assumed everyone was quickly asleep.

By now it was obvious to me that these were a pimp and his girls –and boy. Phil was a prostitute. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had to figure that this was the reality of living on the streets; no money, no work and nothing to sell but your body. Phil was having sex with strangers for money, and probably for very little money, at that. Did this change what I thought about him, though?

Well… In a way, it kind of did. I had a new perspective on his life that I hadn't had before. And I was raised in a very religious household, was taught that casual or premarital sex was a sin –not that I believed that. But still, the thought kind of confused me, and my brain hurt too much now to go to sleep.

A familiar hand silently made its way over the edge of the mattress. At first I just let it hang, but then it tensed, as if trying to get my attention if I was awake –which I was. I smiled a little in the darkness, and took the hand in mine. The warmth and tenderness soon put me to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I found myself legitimately curious in Phil's kind of work. And not in a perverted way, but just what it was like, sort of. And… I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hear the raunchier details, but who wouldn't? I figured I was just a sexually repressed teenager who was suddenly taking out all his urges on this one very attractive friend of his.

Over the next few days, the routine was always the same. Everyone –minus myself at first, but eventually I fell into their sleep schedule— would wake up around noon. Then "Daddy" (Phil told me I could call him Dane, but never to his face) went out and brought back breakfasts in greasy bags for everyone. I never got any myself, but Phil was always nice enough to give me half of his. That was the one actual meal of the day, if you could call it that. The rest of the day everyone but Mr. Dane was mostly cooped up in the musty motel room, and it quickly became stifling. As for food, the girls would snack a little throughout the day –Phil would sometimes offer to take me for a quick dinner, I guess honing in on how I wasn't used to eating only once a day. And I felt guilty for it, but I always took him up on the offer just to get out for a bit.

The two of us were walking –hand in hand— down the sidewalk to find a fast food place to eat at. I tried not to hide my burning face in my hand too much. Why? Why did he need to always hold my hand so openly like this? I sort of wanted to pull it away, but not only did I not want to offend him when it was a gesture made so innocently (which, given his line of work, came as quite a surprise). But in the end I didn't want him to stop holding my hand like this. I hated it but at the same time, every time we were apart, I felt my palm tingling to cup his own again. It felt dirty to me. I know this all started because I'd been jacking off to gay porno honestly I just really was not comfortable with my sexuality. If I liked girls –which would've been so much easier— I would still be sleeping in my warm bed at night, instead of a dirty carpet, and be surrounded by a small cozy family who loved me rather than a pimp, some prostitutes and my one friend –who, when it came down to it, was no better than the others, was just as low down but maybe a little –or a hell of a lot nicer.

So why did I want Phil to keep holding my hand so badly? I tried to convince myself to be disgusted, like I knew I probably should've been. I forced to mind just what kind of dirty people he'd touched with those hands –least of all Dane. (Yeah, it didn't take much effort to figure that out.) I wanted to be repulsed and find my own way, without his help, but… the way he smiled, especially when he smiled at me, it made me just sort of forget what he did every night. I knew he actually cared about me and always said how he wanted to keep me safe, even if he was too shy to say it to me directly. This was the Phil I wanted to know- in fact, I could just say I wanted to know and to be friends with Phil –not "Kitten."

We ended up at a Wendy's, and Phil told me to let myself splurge a little, giving me the money for the both of us while he found us a table. It was twenty dollars, all in fives or singles. I gulped hard, thinking about exactly how much Phil- or "Kitten" made every time he serviced a client, because if it was this sort of cash it really wasn't enough. I knew where most of the money was going, and I felt guilty to know that the rest was probably being spent on me.

I was so lost in that tragic thought that I almost missed the cashier asking if she could help me. I awkwardly answered a "yes" and ordered the both of us Son of Baconator meals, with medium fries and sodas, and medium Frostees. I waited a few minutes at the counter, bored, and turned back to see where Phil had gone off to in hunting out a table. He was meanwhile spinning around in a chair at one of the tables for two, head tilted back and hands folded on his chest. Sensing that I was watching, he peeked an eye open and smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

At last I got our food to our table. He grinned as I sat down with the tray, and pushed his fringe out of his eye. "Took long enough," he laughed. "What did you get?" I told him, and he looked down at his lap briefly before back up at me. "That was sweet of you, Daniel, but I think I'm gonna have to take a lot of it to go. Not used to eating that much."

I usually hated being called Daniel, but something about the way it sounded in his voice made me not really mind it from him. I unwrapped my burger and look him in the eye. "You're too thin for your own good," I noted. "You need to eat something more than plain egg sandwiches once a day." Half sandwiches, with me around.

He sunk into his chair, and it seemed a long minute before I'd convinced him. He picked at his food, seeming to struggle with each bite, and I wished he'd just relax and let himself eat like a normal person.

* * *

I felt just as awkward asking the question as he'd probably feel answering it. We were sitting outside the second-floor room of the motel, which was a bit out of the wall-to-wall-buildings area of the city, but still in a very urban sort of setting –everywhere was concrete or asphalt, and it was always wet, just like the inner parts of the city. We were sitting next to each other, on the edge, with our leg hanging through the rusty bars of the obligatory railing, when I awkwardly asked him.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Do you want to… tell me anything about, you know… your night.. job?"

He huffed out a laugh. "You don't want to hear about any of that."

But I kind of did. And I felt wrong for asking but I was actually curious. "I…"

He got himself up. "Let's go inside, shall we? It's fucking cold out here." He reached out for my hand and I took it gratefully.

* * *

It was Sunday, and that night Dane didn't take the girls out at ten, like he usually did. Phil still had to go, though, and made sure I was in my sleeping slot before he came out of the bathroom in the night's outfit. The first time I'd seen him dressed like that, it made me feel sick and (I'm horribly ashamed to admit it) slightly aroused. I never wanted to see him like that again, and I think he sensed it, and tried to make it so I wouldn't.

I didn't like talking to the girls much. On top of having seen them in their nightly getups, too, they honestly had an almost dirty look to them during the day, as well. It made it difficult to distinguish them from their jobs –and it didn't help that I didn't know anything but their "nicknames," I guess.

But curiosity got to me, and I had to ask. "Why'd he only take Phil tonight?"

I sat up and saw that I'd caught their attention, and immediately regretted it. Angel shrugged. "Kitty gets the most customers, and Sundays are slow business. Daddy charges more for Kitty, so he makes more; and Daddy saves money only renting the one motel room, rather than six."

That definitely caught my attention, and I sputtered out a response. "Motel rooms? You mean, here?" I got a few nods, and was kind of shocked by the news. They'd hardly ever gone anywhere at all, and were on the ground floor, or a few rooms down from here. I'd never noticed, and never would've known.

Again, it stayed stuck in my mind that Phil did this kind of thing for –apparently not much money. I curled up on my side, nausea settling in at the idea.

* * *

They didn't return at around three like they usually did. Or four, or five –I was kept awake with worry. It was finally at seven in the morning that Phil came stumbling back into the room, head and arms hanging loose and looking just absolutely exhausted. Dane took him into the bathroom, and it was maybe ten minutes before they came back out, Phil now in tattered pajamas.

He collapsed onto the bed. He let his hand hang over the side for me like he always did, and I took it, kissing the back gently and hoping he was too tired to notice. I listened as Dane woke the girls up, hissing at them to not wake "Kitty" up in the morning for any goddamn reason. The mattress shifted next to me as he got in with Phil, and I heard him whisper something about him being a "good kitten." I needed to actively prevent myself from vomiting.


	6. Chapter 6

Phil didn't wake up at noon like the others. Dane left early, and at around the time they usually woke up, the girls got ready for a day out. They were so quiet I almost thought I'd gone deaf, and that maybe my vision was failing me too because they got ready just fine with all the lights off, and the blinds closed to keep sunlight out. I guess Dane's command was being taken seriously; I wondered if they were maybe afraid of him, or what he might do if they went against him. It made me worried for Phil, too, being in this situation.

By one o'clock it was just the two of us, and Phil was asleep and very still. Even pressed up against the mattress I couldn't hear it shift once. I got to my knees to check on him, looking just over the edge of the mattress. He was buried in the thin blanket up to his chin; his face was flushed and looked damp with sweat. I tentatively reached a hand out to touch his cheek, wincing at how warm he felt. I sat back on my heels, sighing a little, sympathetic; poor thing was out, um, servicing customers, all night, and now he was sick.

I wasn't really sure what to do, but I had an idea. If I had a little money I could go to a drug store or something –there had to be one nearby— and pick up some Tylenol or something. I didn't have any –I was dead broke. But Phil's wallet was poking out from under his pillow… I took a chance and carefully, silently slipped it out and looked inside. He had fifteen dollars, again, all in fives and ones.

Curiosity wore through me and I snooped through it a bit. He had a driver's license (which confirmed he was barely eighteen years old), of few coupons –none of which would be useful today, even if they weren't expired— and a note with handwriting I couldn't decipher. I looked back to Phil and pushed his hair out of his face.

Now it would come down to whether or not I was willing to take what little money Phil had to go get medicine, which would ultimately work out for him. I had to guess that this fifteen dollars was last night's earnings –all nine hours' worth. But Dane kept them fed, and living at the motel, so I had to figure that this money wouldn't be needed for any necessities. And if he was going to go work tonight, he needed to be well again. And the best chance of Phil feeling better by tonight was to not leave it to his immune system, and let chemicals do their magic.

But he had worked hard to earn what he had. He'd done some unsavory things for this money and I felt dirty just holding the bills in my fingers. And after a long moral debate in my head, I decided I couldn't just take it, whatever the rationale.

I tucked the wallet back where I found it and reached out to nudge his shoulder. He didn't budge at first, which was only more worrying, so I tried again. He groaned and his eyes slipped open slowly. The pale blue was gazed over as he stared up at me. "Huh? Dan?"

I gave him a smile to keep the mood light. "Hey, sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?" I sounded like I was talking to a small child; I should be better at this after years of very directly dealing with sick people.

He grunted what I guess was supposed to be a negative response, and buried himself deeper into the blanket. "Is it just you here?" he croaked.

"Yeah, just the two of us. Dane went out and the girls have gone out for the day, probably so they wouldn't run the risk of waking you up." I sat beside him and stroked his hair back. "You're burning up. Were you feeling sick last night?"

"A little, I guess. Tired and achy, but I figured it was the long night…"

I nodded, understanding. "Are you feeling nauseous or anything?"

"Mm… Not really, I guess. Not like I'm gonna vomit. My stomach hurts, though." He curled in on himself a bit, as if talking about it was making it worse.

I sighed, needing to address what I'd woken him up to ask about. "If you want I can go get you some medicine, and maybe something to cheer you up. I don't have any money, though."

"Use mine," he groaned, and turned over to probably fall back asleep. I smiled softly and took the money, and headed out to find a store somewhere.

* * *

I found a shifty little corner store about a mile away, bought some off-brand fever reducer and painkillers, a bottle of juice, and two chocolate bars. It used up all fifteen dollars except for a nickel and two pennies, which I stuck in my pocket.

On the walk back I passed a small thrift store with a display of men's coats in the window. A black one with a fur-lined hood caught my eye. I knew Phil needed a proper coat, as the cold weather started to really set in, and that one would look really good on him.

I checked the price tag: twenty dollars. I didn't know how, but I was going to earn twenty dollars, and buy him that coat before winter.

* * *

"Daddy, I think he's too sick to work tonight."

The medicine didn't work, and Phil was only feeling worse by the time they were all about to go for the night. Dane was pacing back and forth in front of the bed Phil was still lying in, awake but lethargic. "Is that right?" the man asked sharply. "You're too sick to work tonight?"

"Technically," Phil coughed out. "Ideally I shouldn't go tonight, but I can."

"No, no. Can't have you getting your johns sick, can we?" Dane smirked and stroked a finger down Phil cheek. I had to keep the bile down. "Well, you'll owe me what you could've earned me tonight. You'll get paid again in a few weeks, once you've paid off your debt, okay, Kitten?" His voice was too gentle for what he was saying. Everything about this man and how he treated my friend made me sick.

Dane reached for the wallet under Phil's pillow, and found it devoid of cash. He turned his angry eyes to the sick teen. "The fuck did you do with your money?"

I had to pipe in. "I-I bought him some medicine…"

Dane turned to me, smirking and eyes fiery with anger. "You're so much more trouble than you're worth." He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the door. Phil yelled out in protest, only to quickly fall into a coughing fit. I was shoved out, colliding against the railing and knowing my ribs may be bruised. I heard some commotion inside, and some indistinct shouting and swearing, and then silence.

I hid before the door opened again, and Dane exited, the girls filing out behind him. Once I was sure they were gone for the night, I snuck back in through the open doorway. I closed it behind me, shutting out the cold.

Phil was sitting up in bed, one side of his face substantially redder than the other fervid cheek. I sighed, wincing, and headed over to sit down next to him. We had at least a few hours to ourselves.


	7. Chapter 7

I knew I'd fucked up; the medicinal syrup and pills had done nothing; and now Phil was sick and in debt to his pimp, who already took so much from him; and I probably really shouldn't be here after that jackass Dane had thrown me out, but I couldn't leave Phil here alone.

I sat down next to him on top of the blanket, to put that barrier between us. Our arms were nearly touching. The silence consumed us and all I could hear was blood rushing in my ears. I turned nervously to face him, and squeaked an awkward "hi," which he tried to return but ended up coughing instead. I reached out a shaking hand to rub his back until the hacking died down. I pulled back quickly, worrying I was overstepping again.

The night drew on in silence, but not altogether uncomfortably. There seemed to be nothing to say. I bit my lip, and noticed it was a little past midnight. At last I had to ask what I'd been wondering ever since he brought me here. "Why are you doing this?"

He turned to me, staring with tired bloodshot eyes that he was obviously struggling to keep open. "Why am I doing what?"

"Why did you take me in like this?" I reached under the pillow for his juice, unscrewed the cap and handed it to him. He took a few gulps and set it aside. "There's nothing to gain from having me here. If anything I'm a burden more than anything. I mean, I'm definitely very grateful, and it's a lot better than being on my own out on the street, but what are you gaining from this? Why are you taking care of me?"

He gave a weak smile and turned over to face me a little better. He swiped his hair out of his eyes and stared at me for another moment. I shifted awkwardly, uncertain. At length he croaked out a response.

"I'm doing it because I know what it's like to have nothing and no one, and to be afraid like you were, and I would never let someone go through that." He shifted, sitting up a little straighter. "When you helped me out –what, two years ago?— it was the first time since my parents left that someone had shown me so much compassion, and seemed to genuinely care. And the next day, you still did, and kept trying to help. And even two years later, when I'm sure you had lots and lots of patients to deal with before and after me, you remembered. You cared enough to remember me. And someone like that doesn't deserve to be left out in the cold with nothing and nobody and nowhere to go. I wasn't gonna let such a nice person go through that."

He sank down into the bed, eyes closed, and he didn't see me blushing so bright. So this was karma or something? I figured I could live with that.

I thought he was asleep now, so I moved down to lay next to him, facing and watching him sleep. But he smirked and his eyes fluttered back open, and now he could definitely see, even in the low light, how red my face was.

"I can trust you, right?" he asked quietly, obviously very tired. I had to think for a moment; whatever he wanted to tell me now, he might regret when he had a clearer head. I didn't want to say he could trust me with something he wasn't actually comfortable telling me. But I was genuinely curious, and curiosity got the better of my judgment. I figured what I could do was let him tell me, and then never let on that I knew unless he talked to me about it when he was feeling better.

"Yeah," I answered, uncertain even as I said it. "Yeah, you can trust me."

He nodded slowly, and it took him a long moment to start talking again. His words were starting to sleepily slur together. "I had a pretty good life when I was little. I lived in Brooklyn with my mom and dad, and we were pretty happy. I… I remember how I'd come home from school and my mom would be there, waiting for me with a little snack. I'd do my homework and help here with dinner, and my dad would get home at six and we'd all eat together. Well… that was how it went for a while. When I was, like, seven or something, my dad started coming home later and later. And then one night he just didn't come back at all. And the next day after school there was no snack, and my mom was just staring out the window. I wanted to ask her what was wrong but I figured it was grown-up stuff. I went and sat down in the living room to watch some cartoons, but a little while later she came in, pulling her coat on, and told me to go play in my room. I thought that she was going out to look for my dad."

He's interrupted by a harsh cough, and resumes hoarsely. "Well then she didn't come back, either. I went to school the next day, but I didn't get on the bus after, I stayed in the classroom. My teacher asked why I hadn't gone, if I was waiting to be picked up. So I told her that my mommy and daddy were both gone. She called the police right away, and they got searching, and meanwhile I stayed at my teacher's apartment because I had no other family to go to.

"Things with Ms. Tilley weren't that bad, and she started to be extra nice to me because I was apparently traumatized –that's what the school social worker said, but I don't think I was. I just wanted to go back to the way things were. I started to adjust to everything, but then the detective came to talk to me after school, and said that it had been a week with no sign of my parents at all –because they had very little to go on with their disappearances. So they were at a loss for what to do for the time being. Ms. Tilley couldn't take care of me anymore, and for the next few years I was bounced around from family to family, because I was a bit of a troublemaker knowing that no, things weren't going to be the same anymore, not ever again."

He coughed again and I reached out to ease him, but he assured me he was fine, and went on with the rest of the story. "I ended up in a group home and they hated me there –more so than with the other people I lived with. I was thirteen and hated everything in my life, and started skipping school, and threatening to run away for good. I snuck out of school the day that… _he_ found me. And he asked me why I was feeling down, and like an idiot I told him everything like I'm telling you now. And he said he was sorry, and that a good kid like me didn't deserve that kind of life. He was… really sweet to me. We became sort of friends, and hung out after school because the people I lived with couldn't give less of a damn about where I was or who I hung out with, even if it was going to dinner with a thirty-year-old man." He laughs humorlessly. "I even straight told them what I was doing and they couldn't be bothered. I was thirteen and… dating a thirty-year-old. That's what it was, but damned if it didn't take me a real fucking long time to figure that one out."

He gulped hard and coughed soft. "I… I don't think you need many of the details of what happened after that. I was almost sixteen –oh, he took his time making sure I was hooked on him— when he convinced me to live with him, so I ran away from the group home. Nobody came looking for me, they didn't care enough to notice. And why should they?"

"Phil—"

"But that's not the point." He calmed himself down. "What happened from there is I guess pretty obvious, considering where I am now. The day we met, it was pretty early in on my whoring days. I don't think I actually make enough of the money for it to be called prostitution, no, I'm just a slut because my boyfriend made sure I was a slut before he got me opening my legs for any guy who threw a few dollars to him –to him, not me, I barely ever see any of it. And he justifies it by saying he keeps us fed and sheltered, so it's like our rent and food money that he's taking from us. But that fifteen dollars I had? I had to let ten guys fuck me for that money. Sex with ten ugly ass motherfuckers bought me two shitty things of medicine, a bottle of juice and two candy bars."

He wiped hard at his eyes. It took him a long time to calm down, breathing harsh and labored and trying not to cry too much. I had nothing to say, nothing I could say to console him. I was just stiff and silent, taking it all in.

Eventually he dropped down from boiling, laughing softly and weakly. "I'm sorry for dumping this all on you. I just needed to get it out."


	8. Chapter 8

The silence resumed, and I was as white-faced as he was red. Knowing Phil's story now, I wasn't really sure what to say. I wasn't sure I had the right to say anything about any of it, because it would come down to either pity or invalidation –on opposite ends— and knowing Phil as much as I did, I knew he wouldn't want either. So I stayed perfectly quiet as the secondhand memories buzzed around in my head and made it throb. Phil didn't have anything to say more, either, and his brutal coughing fits were the only things to break up the silence until nearly three.

I remembered how when Dane came back in a little while, he wouldn't want to find me here, so I knew I had to go. I slid off the bed and stuffed my hands in my pockets, and was making for the door when I heard Phil's voice croak out behind me. "Where are you going?"

I turned back to face him, smiling softly to put him at ease. "Go to sleep. I'll be back when the coast is clear –I promise." He stared at me another long moment, and decided my word was enough and sunk down into the pillow and blanket to get some sleep. I knot grew in my stomach at the thought of Dane coming and occupying the bed with him soon, but I tried to put that out of mind.

I snuck out the door and headed for the far staircase down. I had to be careful or Dane might see me, working the rooms downstairs, the girls inside and him standing out on guard and taking new customers. I hid on the side of the building and listened carefully in the quiet night. I stood there waiting for a long time, and if there wasn't a solid wall keeping me from going anywhere out of his sight, I would've made a run for it already. But I had to keep still and quiet, and just wait.

Eventually I heard Dane bidding goodnight to the last man, and shouting for the girls to get out there. I heard indistinct and quiet groans from the tired girls, and Dane congratulated them on a good night, and herded them up the stairs back to the room. Once I knew they were all up on the second level, I slipped quietly in front of the ground floor rooms, under the balcony, and headed down the street. But knowing I at least was safe didn't put me at ease much.

* * *

I slept on a nearby bench for a few hours, and was only woken when an officer came by and asked me why I was there. I blinked my eyes open to see a kind face staring down at me. "Do you have nowhere to go, kid?"

"No, sir, it was just a long night. I met with my girlfriend –we couldn't go to our houses, our parents would've had a fit seeing us together— and we could only afford the motel room for one night." I didn't like lying, but I could do it pretty well when I needed to. "I couldn't go back to school in the same clothes as yesterday, and my parents will get suspicious if I'm home before them."

It certainly wasn't the most believable story I'd ever come up with, but it seemed to satisfy him. The officer told me to just stay awake if I was going to be out on the bench, and, pretty well-rested by now, I told him I would. Just before he walked away, I asked him for the time. "Three-thirty," he said, and continued on his beat.

Three-thirty. Dane would definitely be gone by now, but the girls would be in, and they might rat me out. But I promised to go back to Phil once the coast was clear, and I was already pretty late. I decided to go for broke and went back to the motel, hopping up the steps two at a time and arriving at the door. I knocked almost hesitantly, but firmly.

Shiba answered, and sneered when she saw me. "Didn't Daddy get rid of you last night?"

I had to be patient and pleasant; she was all that was standing between me and my very sick best friend. "Phil wanted me to come back," I answered unsurely, not wanting to get him roped into this confrontation but ultimately, there was no way around it.

Shiba groaned and shouted over her shoulder, "Kitten! Is he yours?"

"Shut up, Sheeb, he's sleeping!" I couldn't make out which girl that was. Shiba closed the door a little bit, now completely blocking my entrance.

"He's sick and asleep, so you'll have to come back later." It was her smirk that got to me, thinking she had all the power in the world right then, and loved making me beg to see my friend.

"Please?" I sounded a little more pathetic than I wanted to, but I didn't want to show up after Phil had woken up, and he'd think I'd abandoned him. At further refusal, I tried to reason my way inside, and got nothing.

I peeked over her head to see if Phil showed any signs of waking up, but he was lying very still on the bed, only stirred by rough coughing every few minutes. I winced, and agreed to come back in an hour, so long as I'd be allowed in whether Phil was awake or not. Shiba wanted to argue that, too, but didn't get a chance when one of the girls inside –it was Angel, I could see her sitting next to Phil on the bed— agreed to the idea.

"Alright. Come back in an hour, then."

"And if he wakes up will you tell him that I came, and am coming back soon?"

"No promises."

"I will," Sunny piped in.

"Thank you." And I headed out again, counting down until I would return.

* * *

After wandering around for a while, nothing much transpiring in the meantime, I ended up back at the motel room door, and stood there to wait until one hour exactly had passed before knocking. But as I stood there waiting, I heard voices inside, the Sunny and Angel speaking in somewhat worried tones.

"You think Daddy will kick him out again?"

"I don't think so. It's just two nights too sick to work, and Daddy loves him, you know that."

"I know. Poor Kitty… Do you think he—"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Shiba quipped. "It's not like this is the first time Kitten's been sick, so there's no need to get your g-strings in a twist." Silence, and then some movement I assumed came from Shiba. "Now that we got that out of the way, what were you gonna ask, Sun?"

The hour was up, and I couldn't listen to this talk any longer, so I knocked quickly on the door, loud enough to break through the conversation. I heard someone coming, and it was Angel who opened it up this time. "Hey, Dan." She gave me a small smile, and honestly I was surprised, almost flattered that she remembered my name. "You wanted to see Phil? Come on in. He's still asleep, though, so don't wake him up."

I nodded and moved over to the bed to sit next to him. I pushed his hair out of his shut eyes; he was getting worse, burning up hotter than before, covered in a sheen of sweat and shivering, skin blotchy between stark pale and feverish red. And his coughing fits were growing more frequent, even as he slept.

And I knew deep down and in the back of my brain, that he needed to go to the hospital. But the part of me that knew his situation, and the part of me that just wanted him to be alright, conspired to convince me that the best thing to do was to just keep him in bed and wait it out, and everything would be okay.

"Daddy might kick him out tonight if he can't work," Sunny sighed, sitting on the other bed.

And I knew that would be the worst thing that could happen right now, to be exiled out into the cold when he was already so horribly ill. I had to convince them, convince Dane, convince Phil that he could indeed work tonight, even if I couldn't convince myself.


	9. Chapter 9

I remembered a little too late that I wasn't actually supposed to be there, and stayed all the rest of the afternoon and evening with Phil. He woke up a few times, but only barely and briefly, and then fell right back into fitful sleep. I was sitting beside him on the bed, gently stroking his damp hair and wondering what I could do. I was sort of at a loss for what was wrong with him; anything I could come up with didn't develop this quickly –he was completely healthy just a few days ago, and has been consistently ill since. I was stumped.

Sunny was kind enough to warn me when Dane was coming, but not soon enough that he wouldn't see me leaving. I panicked; I felt trapped. I was afraid of what the man would do to me if he saw me back here after quite literally throwing me out. With nowhere else to conceivably run to, I dropped down to the floor and scooted hastily under the bed. It was a tight fit but I managed to get close enough to the far wall, and yanked the bed sheet down a bit to hide what might have still been visible of me from the outside. Dane was very tall; I had to figure he wouldn't see me unless he got down on the ground to my level. I sighed a short breath of relief –as long as I was quiet, and no one ratted me out, there was no reason for him to find me down here.

The door opened just a moment later, and I didn't realize until then how lucky I'd been to get down so quickly. For the next few moments the only sound in the room was the crinkling of the greasy fast food bag as Dane handed out dinner to the girls.

"Is Kitten feeling any better yet?"

"Not yet, Daddy," Angel answered through a mouthful of cheap burger. "We were talking it over today, and trying to take care of him, but we're kinda at a loss for what to do. None of us ever been so sick before."

Dane didn't respond. I heard his heavy footsteps thudding closer and closer, and the bed shifted down under his weight. All else was silent as the rest of them ate, until Dane spoke to them again. "Think he's okay to work tonight?"

"I think so," Sunny lied. "He's better than last night," again.

The bed shifted again and I could only assume Dane was lying down with Phil, and I felt disgusted. I hated to think about how my Phil was being at all touched by this pig of a man, most of all when he was sick like this and physically couldn't escape. The way Dane sounded when he spoke to him –like he actually cared at all— only made it worse.

"I brought you your favorite, Kitty. Come on, wake up and eat something."

I heard a groan as Phil started to wake up a bit, followed by rough hacking coughs. He didn't say anything, but the way Dane continued to talk to him –when he really needed to get some rest— must've meant his eyes were still open, somehow.

"Are you gonna be okay to work tonight?" No answer. "You're burning up worse than before, baby, and you're looking a hell of a lot sicker than this morning or last night, especially. Do you need to go to the hospital?"

I heard something mumbled quietly, but couldn't make it out. I heard Dane pat his shoulder and get up off the bed, crossing the room and leaving. I didn't dare risk climbing out from under the bed, not until I knew he was gone for the night entirely. It was still way too early to take the chance.

I heard the girls mumbling indistinctly to each other. Everything else was silent for a long moment, until a groan from above me got my attention.

"Dan?"

I perked up. Did he know I was down here? He was asleep when I crawled under. Maybe he knew I wouldn't leave him unless I absolutely had to, and under the bed made a decent hiding spot that I'd probably use more often.

I reached my hand out to find Phil's already hanging there, and took it in my own, holding it firm but gentle. I stroked my thumb over the bony ridge of his knuckles, wanting to speak to him without running the risk of being found out. He squeezed my fingers and I smiled, until what little strength he had gave out. That was when I started to really worry. I squeezed his hand and got a much weaker clench back, which quickly went slack again.

I wiped at my eyes with my free hand and heard the door open again. Dane moved a bit more quickly across the room and laid down on the bed again, and I had to quickly withdraw my hand back under the bed. I heard a small whimper at that, which Dane must've mistaken for pain by the way he proceeded to coo softly to him.

"Tonight's Billy's gonna come and take you to the ER, alright?" No response, and Dane didn't continue. He got up off the bed to address the girls. "Let's go, ladies, get into uniform. We can get an early start tonight, I want you all looking your best."

They got ready, and I was a bit taken aback at a sudden realization. For what a scumbag Dane was, and how he was way too lowly and slimy to have any kind of control over five people's lives, and how he took most of their… maybe not "well-earned" money, because it was just sex, but it was supposed to be theirs nonetheless –he talked to them a lot different than, even for how sheltered I was, I would've ever imagined a pimp talking to his prostitutes. He was still a sleezeball, yes, but he didn't call any of them hoes or bitches –he called the girls by their pseudonyms, or "ladies" as a whole, like they were some pure high beings, and called Phil Kitten or Kitty, and almost always in a very fond voice that still made me sick. I guessed it was to keep them from wanting to leave, to keep them thinking he actually cared about them at all for any more than the money they made him –and that sort of only made it worse.

* * *

Like Dane had told them to, they did leave much earlier than usual. I waited a long moment, to see if he would come back. But the coast seemed to be clear, so I crawled out from under the bed and scrambled to stand next to it. I turned to Phil, who was awake, but seemed incredibly out of it. His eyes were glazed over and looking at nothing until they eventually turned to me. He gave a small smile seeing me, and reached out for my hand again, which I took happily.

"Why do you like holding my hand so much?" I asked, curious. I almost expected a long-winded answer like I'd gotten yesterday when I asked why he felt he needed to protect me. Instead, he just shrugged, smiling softly and staring down at our intertwined fingers.

"I dunno. Just like to remember you're here, I guess."

I smiled and leaned in to kiss his hot cheek, and felt him smile, too.

* * *

There was a knock on the door shortly after. I sucked in a breath, reminding myself that if it was Dane, he wouldn't knock, just use the key. I stood up to go answer it, being the only person there who could.

There stood a kind of ratty looking man with a graying mustache and beard and dressed all in denim. I figured this had to be Billy, who I remembered was coming to take Phil to the hospital.

"You one of Boss's new ones?" he asked me, and I didn't know what I was thinking when I answered yes.

Face draining already at what I said, I stepped aside to let him into the room. He headed over to the bed and sat next to Phil, asking if he was alright, and getting a similar response to what Phil had said every time he was asked how he was feeling. After a few more moments, Billy patted his shoulder, got back up and came over to me.

"My car's out back. Help him down, will ya?"

I nodded stiffly. I didn't know how I was going to help Phil out to the car, least of all without getting spotted.

I went over and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry about this, but you need to listen to me. Dane's downstairs, and I need to get you downstairs, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he sees me. So I'm gonna help you over to the stairs and wait until the coast is clear, and then we're gonna have to move fast, okay? I know you're sick but you're gonna have to keep up." I stroked his hair back, still feeling bad about this but not willing to be separated from him yet.

He nodded shallowly, and I nodded, too. I put my clinic skills to use and pretty quickly got him to sitting up, tossing the blanket aside, and got his feet on the ground and pulled him up to stand, arm slung around my shoulder and my arm around his waist. I propped him up, getting him to the door and out to the stairs. I looked sat him down against the railing for a moment to look over the side. Dane was nowhere to be seen.

I picked Phil back up and told him we needed to move quickly, and he nodded a little sloppily. We hastened down the stairs, almost tripping a few times but ultimately staying upright, and headed around the corner of the building. I sighed in relief. We were in the clear, and Billy's car was right there.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a mostly silent ride to the hospital. I sat in the back with Phil, letting him lie down across the other two seats and rest his head on my lap. I twisted my fingers through his dark hair, almost content to just watch him sleep. Every bump in the road we hit seemed to trigger a coughing fit, and all I could do was rub his shoulder and hope it would soothe him. It seemed to. Billy would once in a while ask if he was alright; I never answered. I didn't know whether I could say yes or no, so I just said nothing.

When we got there, I took Phil to the waiting room while Billy went up to the reception desk. I watched from a chair while the man seemed to have no idea what he was doing, and spoke rather rudely to the receptionist. I almost wanted to go up there and tell him I'd take over from there, but I couldn't bring myself to leave Phil alone here.

He was struggling to stay awake now, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to me, forcing his eyes to stay open and letting his head flop down onto my shoulder every once in a while. I smiled and rubbed his back.

Billy came back and said we'd have to wait maybe an hour or more, and seemed really sour about it. I could understand the impatience, but I knew this kind of setting well, and knew it took a while in an ER to sort the more urgent cases from the lesser ones. I grazed my fingers over Phil's forehead; he was really warm, but not enough to be of any immediate concern.

"Did Boss finally come to his senses?" Billy hissed, trying to keep quiet so no one would hear. I decided to follow suit.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, face burning in embarrassment as I tried to figure a way out of the lie I'd told earlier. No, I wasn't a prostitute. Did I look like one to him? I looked like— I looked like I hadn't showered or changed my clothes in over a week, and smelled like sweat and the greasy fast food Dane gave the girls and Phil. That and how I'd actually told him that, yes, I was a prostitute working for Dane, it was going to be difficult to wiggle my way out of this.

"So what's your name?"

"Cocoa," was the first name to come to mind. I didn't know what made me give this as an answer, but I'd almost stuttered out my real name first, and stopped myself with whatever came out next.

"But you're white."

I sighed and didn't let the conversation go any further. I was grateful that this man had come and gotten Phil and brought him here, but that gratitude was as far as I wanted my acquaintance with him to go. I had little interest in actually getting to know him, or letting him know me beyond a fake name I came up with on the spot.

Phil turned and curled against me, pressing himself as close as the arm rests between us would allow. I ran my fingers through his hair, reminding him in his compromised consciousness that I was here and not going anywhere, and he seemed to calm down a bit at that. I smile and kissed his burning forehead. I knew he and I weren't anything more than friends, but something about the chaste, not lip-to-lip kisses felt kind of right in my head, and he didn't seem to mind. In fact, by the way he was smiling a little, even with his eyes closed and maybe asleep now, I had to figure he might've liked it as much as I did.

* * *

It wasn't too long –maybe an hour, hour and a half— before a the receptionist finally called for Phil to be taken in. It still felt like much longer than it should've taken, though, the waiting room nearly empty and no one having been called up in ages. I nudged Phil awake, and he opened his tired eyes up only briefly before they fell shut again, and soon he was wrapped up in another coughing fit. I winced and tried to get him to his feet. He felt like a ragdoll in my arms as I pulled him up to stand.

A nurse came and helped me with him, and the two of us managed to get him through the double doors and down the hall to an empty room, and laid him down in an empty bed –poor Phil hacking his lungs out all the while.

"Are you of any relation to the patient?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's my brother." Another stunning, unwanted and unnecessary lie; I was on a roll with those tonight.

"Well, we'll let you know how things go. If you could go back to the waiting room?"

I nodded silently, and told Phil I'd be right down the hall, and to tell the nurse or doctor if he needed me. Phil nodded weakly in response, and I left.

* * *

"So, Cocoa, what's your story?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. I still didn't want to speak to Billy, and if he wasn't the only means of transportation we had, I'd kindly ask him to leave. I didn't appreciate him trying to be all friendly with me, especially since we were alone outside the building, getting some fresh air, and he thought I was a prostitute. It made my stomach turn to be alone with him, but the waiting room was stuffy and I told myself I wasn't afraid. Still, I had no desire interact with this man any more than I needed to.

"Are you working tonight?"

"No," I answered defensively, and gulped down the lump in my throat. He shrugged and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, offered me one, and lit one for himself at my declination.

"You sure you're not up for a good time?" he asked again, smirking slimily. He reached a hand toward my thigh. My brain short-circuited as his dirty fingers brushed the leg of my jeans, and it took me a moment to react. I batted the hand away, frightened and furious now.

"No!" I screeched, and worried someone might think –correctly— that I might be in trouble. For the sake of this, at least, I kept up the volume and tone. "My friend's sick in the hospital right now and the only reason I'm still here –with _you,_ of all people— is so I can find out if he's gonna be okay! Now, don't you fucking dare touch me or I'll call the police, I swear I will!"

"And when they find out you're a dirty hooker?"

I was honestly terrified now, horrified at the idea that he might actually try something. My heart pounded in my ears and I pressed myself up against a pillar, away from him. I didn't think to run away, or back inside. I couldn't think at all, I could only react, quivering all over, and shout at him. "They're- They're gonna arrest you for sexual assault if you lay a finger on me!"

"And they'll arrest you for prostitution, lovely." He grinned a nauseating grin, and I fought the urge to vomit. "Wouldn't want that. Now, come on. We both know it's not up to you; do I have to call the Boss and get him to sign off on it? It's him I'd have to pay."

And I couldn't hold the bile down any longer. But at least I had the consciousness to aim well.

"Fuck!" he shouted, cringing at the former contents of my stomach now displayed on his shirt. "Fuck you, bitch!" I laughed weakly as he stormed off.

A nurse ran out and asked what had happened, and if I was alright. I nodded and went back in with her.

* * *

I didn't have long to wait there before in came the absolute last man I wanted to see. Dane approached the reception desk, asking where Phil was, claiming himself to be Phil's father and coming all worried, and wanting to get him home. A doctor came through the doors just then, and I overheard the conversation.

"We've given him antibiotics, but it doesn't seem to be doing much. It'll turn into pneumonia if not treated properly, and it'd be best if he stay a few days." I subconsciously agreed, wincing at the thought of Phil developing pneumonia, but not thinking it was a shock.

"I'll take care of him at home, I will. I just need to get him back, his mother's waiting and worried sick."

"I really must insist, sir—"

And then another week voice joined in, one I could barely hear, but easily made it out to be Phil's voice.

"I wanna go home with Daddy."

The doctor looked more than a little concerned, with the very ill patient standing there in the doorway, pill bottles in hand and looking barely conscious. I kind of wanted to scream, but my throat was sore. I knew the doctor could only let the patient go if he insisted, which Phil did and did again when asked. They couldn't keep him, and god I wish they could.

I watched as Dane wrapped an arm around Phil's waist, and led him to the door. I couldn't help him spotting me. Our eyes met for a moment, and then Dane gestured for me to stand up. I didn't fight it, and got to my feet immediately, shaking. He gave me a small smile.

"Come on, Cocoa, let's go home."


	11. Chapter 11

Dane drove us back, and I was honestly grateful to not have to see Billy again. Phil sat up front with him, slumped against the door and turning his head to look at me behind him every once in a while. He forced a smile for me and I returned the equally phony gesture. I was nervous beyond all hell. Dane had called me by that shitty made-up name I'd given to that scumbag, Billy; he knew I'd claimed myself to work for him. What would come next? Was he gonna try to force me into prostitution, too? If not, why was he taking me back with him, when he'd promptly kicked me out of the motel room just yesterday? I tried to stay calm, but it wasn't working. I knew I was in for trouble with this guy, and there was so little I could do to avoid it.

And then Phil turned to Dane and started speaking in a weak, croaking voice.

"Daddy, why'd you call him Cocoa back there?"

"Because Billy called me up while you were in the hospital, baby, and told me how your friend here told him he was one of mine. That his name was Cocoa, so that's what I'm going with now." He reached a hand beside him to stroke Phil's cheek, which was clearly flushed and feverish even in the sparse glow of an occasional streetlight.

Even with Dane's hand on his face, Phil turned back to look at me for a moment. His eyes were tired and sad, as if disappointed in what I'd said, and what I'd gotten myself into now. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face between them in shame.

"So is he gonna have to work now?" Phil asked, sounding sort of forlorn. I knew I'd gotten an answer about it, but I still didn't quite understand why he wanted to protect me so much. I couldn't say I'd be the same way, had the roles been reversed. It stuck in my gut when I thought of how, in his situation, I might've left him to fend for himself. I'm a selfish prick –I can own up to that.

Dane shrugged, turning onto another street. "I don't know, Kitten. I guess he'll have to, unless he wants to cut a deal with me. You're too sick to work right now, aren't you?"

Phil shook his head insistently. "I'll be fine to get back to flatbacking if I can just have one more day to rest. I won't make you miss any more business. Just…"

"Just what?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Just leave Dan alone, okay?"

There was a long pause, and I wanted to shout at him. No! Stop being an idiot, trying to get me off the hook! Take care of yourself before you go and take care of someone else –you can't afford not to.

"I'll think about it," Dane answered at length. "In the meantime, I've got a new room for you, so you won't be staying with me or the girls. Don't want whatever you got getting caught by anyone else." He reached his arm across the console and I saw him take Phil's hand. "Think you'll be okay on your own?"

Phil hummed, thinking. "I think I'll be okay if someone's there to watch over me."

"Do you want me to stay with you, then?"

"The girls need you there with them, and I really need to get some rest if I'm gonna get back to work." He turned back to face me again, smiling a little, and then back to the man driving. "Is it okay if Dan stays with me?"

Dane sighed heavily, and it took him a long minute to answer. "… Alright."

* * *

Dane took Phil and I to a room a few doors down from the one we'd been staying in. I helped Phil get settled into the bed furthest from the door, and sat next to him for a while, watching him sleep. It didn't feel that creepy, honestly; I just wanted to be near him, I guess, make sure he was okay. I pushed his hair out of his face and smiled a little, feeling stupid but happy.

"Kid?"

I turned my head nervously to face Dane at the other end of the room. He twisted a finger toward me, gesturing for me to step outside with him for a minute. I followed immediately, not wanting to take his generosity for granted –and I couldn't believe I was thinking such about a pimp in teen prostitution.

Outside, he was silent for a little while, smoking. I stood there, waiting patiently and not saying a word, worried to instill his wrath against me. Eventually he finished the cigarette, pressing the burning butt against the scratchy wall, and looked into my soul, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"I'm letting you stay so you can take care of Kitten until he gets better, you understand?" I nod. "Once he's well again, I want you out, and never want you around here again. I can see he sees something in you." He looked me over. "Though god knows what. But I understand. But once he isn't sick anymore, if he wants to be around you, he can leave, too."

I knew Dane didn't mean for it to, but that sounded like a great idea.

"You understand, kid?"

I nodded quickly. "I understand, sir."

* * *

I slept in the empty bed that night, and was woken before dawn to find myself with a new bedmate. Phil had climbed into this bed with me sometime during the night, and was lying awake next to me, wide awake and very close. His body was right up against mine and turned slightly so his head was pretty much on my chest. I stared around, a little confused, but more worried that once the confusion wore off that I might come to enjoy it.

"Phil? You okay?"

My voice seemed to snap him out of a trance, and he nodded. "Yeah, just fine," he coughed, as if nothing was out of the ordinary with him sleeping so close to me. "Did you want me to go back to my own bed?"

I probably would've preferred it, honestly. I didn't want to react to this the way I felt my body reacting, and scooted away a bit. But I didn't tell him that yes, I'd like him to leave me be. I couldn't when he wasn't actually doing anything wrong, and I was objectively quite enjoying having him there with me. "No, you can stay," I mumbled quietly.

He smiled and pressed himself back against me, closer than before and properly laying his head on my chest now. I laid stiff, too scared to move.

"You don't have to pay me, you know."

My breath caught in my throat until I managed to choke out a "What?"

"I know what's bothering you. You're horny and need to get some." He sat up a little, looking me in the eye through the darkness. "Why do you think I came over? You were moaning in your sleep –moaning my name." He smiled softly, blush hidden in his fervid cheeks. "It's the first time someone moaned my name –my real name— since early on with Dane. And… I kinda like it. So, if you want to take the chance now while we're alone together, and I'm not working the night, I'll gladly let you take me."

He laid back down flat on the bed, and I was sort of stunned. Phil was inviting me to have sex with him. I sat up a bit. I didn't know what to think, or what to say. So my mouth let out the first stupid thing to come to my head. "I'm a virgin."

He grinned and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together. I couldn't describe how our hands somehow just fit together. "Don't worry. You're not buying your first time, you don't have to feel bad."

I gulped hard, staring down at him, my pants becoming unfortunately tighter at the sight. I tried to push my worries aside and assure myself that I did want this, because honestly, I really did. And I'd probably feel sick about doing it afterward but for now I was gonna live.

I moved to awkwardly straddle his waist and leaned down to kiss him briefly. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, uncertain about what I was doing. He nodded confidently, and asked me the same. I nodded and leaned back in to kiss him again.

For a while from there I couldn't comprehend much other than the heat between our bare bodies grinding against each other, hot and sensual. He coaxed me through fucking him and dear god I felt sick over it but it was so amazing that I couldn't bring myself to care. I kissed him long and hard and came just as hard inside him.

It wasn't until I came down from my high that I realized he wasn't finished yet. I swallowed hard, listening to him panting under me. I made the split second decision to bring him to the edge with my mouth, and I moved, almost unashamed, down his body.

"Dan?" he huffed out. "What are you doing…?"

"I'm gonna suck you off," I answered, the words bitter in my mouth but the most blatant truth. I hated the idea of having a dick in my mouth but I wanted to make him feel good like he'd let me.

"No, Dan—"

"What?" I lifted my head about level with his hips. "Phil, what's wrong?"

He looked sort of frightened, and I had no idea why. Was I doing something wrong? Did he change his mind earlier and in the heat of the moment I hadn't realized?

"I just—" He coughed hard and whimpered a little once it died down. He didn't look me in the eyes anymore. He looked almost ashamed. "I don't want you to get sick…"

I couldn't imagine I was gonna catch what he had now any more than I already could've. "Phil, what are you talking about?"

He was silent for a long, long moment, but I wasn't going to let up. I wasn't going to go further with this if he didn't want to, but I wanted to know what was bothering him so I could remember to avoid it in future intimate interactions –if there would be any more. He caught my eye for a moment, and I didn't miss the tears glittering in the blue orbs. It sort of broke my heart to seem him like this. "Phil…?"

He sputtered out a quiet reply, and I hated to make him say it again, but I prompted a repeat so I could hear him properly. His voice cracked and squeaked, and he tensed tight as he answered again. "I have AIDS…"


	12. Chapter 12

I was floored. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and silently begged that it wasn't true, that I had heard wrong. Silent, completely silent, I sat back on my heels and tried to let it sink in. I fumbled reaching over the edge of the bed to grab my underwear and put them back on, still stiff and stunned. Phil didn't bother with his clothes, just pulled the blanket to cover himself. Once I regained focus, I looked to him, and saw how he wouldn't look me in the eye, but had a set look on his face.

"You have AIDS." I didn't voice it much like a question, but I hoped desperately that he would deny it, that it was a misunderstanding or some sick joke he was pulling. But he didn't look like he was joking, and he didn't say anything in response. I moved closer to him to let him know that I wasn't leaving this bed without some answers. "Are you serious?"

He nodded shakily, and I was stunned again for a briefer moment than before.

"And you've been having sex with several men a night?" He nodded again, and my tone grew a bit louder. "Is it at least protected sex?" I asked urgently, grabbing his shoulder and hoping to get a straight, verbal answer out of him. I needed him to say yes.

"They don't bring them, and Daddy doesn't supply any."

"So you're spreading the virus. Please… Please tell me you just found out at the hospital tonight."

He didn't answer, but I knew. I was shocked; this wasn't the Phil I thought I'd come to know over the last week or so. It was unbearably confusing and it was only once I found this horrible fact out that I realized how much I'd come to care about and appreciate him, maybe even love him.

I lashed out in my frustration and disappointment, hitting him in the arm a bit harder than I'd meant to. In my anger I barely noticed how he'd flinched. "Why the fuck are you doing this? Don't you know you could pass it on to people and they could _die_ because of you?" I wasn't meaning to sound so harsh, and somewhere deep inside I really did want to get his side of it, have some patience and understanding, but the much larger part of me just couldn't. I was angry and wasn't about to hold back now.

"Yes," he answered curtly, a scowl on his face and tears in his eyes.

"And you don't care?"

"They'll get what they take. Let God and fate deal them they hand they deserve."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "And if they're infected, anyone they sleep with might be, too. Do _they _deserve it, Phil?"

He didn't answer me, and I shook his shoulder hard to get a response. "No," he cried out, "but if they're coming to me all the time odds are they're not sleeping with anyone else!" He yanked himself from my grasp. "And how the fuck would I be able to pass it on if I hardly ever get to cum anyway? They're not gonna get infected just from fucking me like the whore pigs they are!"

"That's not the fucking point, Phil, the point is you're knowingly doing this. You know what could happen, you're proving it right now that you know how HIV is spread. And from how sick you are I know you know how awful it is."

"I was fifteen!" he shouted, voice breaking. "The bastard who gave it to me didn't fucking warn me about it. This is the only fucking life I know, Dan. If it gets out that I have AIDS I'll never have another customer, and Daddy will leave me on my own and then what the fuck would I do? This is all I have, Dan. Why the fuck do you think I stay?"

I didn't know what to say to that, but I was still fuming. I leaned back for a minute, trying to calm down and speak rationally about this after the initial shock and shame subsided. After a long moment, I faced him again, and spoke more softly. "Does Dane know?"

Phil shook his head, apparently calmed down a bit, too. "No. I couldn't tell him, he'd drop me in an instant. And that would only hurt both of us."

"Because he wouldn't be making money off you anymore—"

"Because he loves me. He's in love with me, Dan, and I know it would break his heart to have to let me go."

I hated hearing this. I couldn't actually believe that a pimp was somehow in love with one of his prostitutes, and that the prostitute was returning some of that sentiment. It made me gag to think that Phil was living this way. "That's disgusting, I don't believe that."

"He is. He cares about me, more than the others. And it's not just because I'm the biggest cash cow for him to rake in money for. He's sweet to me; he takes care of me. More than Shiba or Sunny or Bijou or Angel, he makes sure I'm safe, especially when I'm with a client. Some men I service try to argue the payment; he refuses to let them go without paying full price, even though he could just take it all for himself if it came up short. He doesn't pay me much but he makes sure I don't go without some compensation. And he's quicker to spend the money on me than on anything or anyone else. Honestly, the girls would never have been able to go to the hospital if they got sick, because Daddy doesn't have insurance and he'd have to pay up front. He makes sure I'm healthy not so I can work, but so I'll be alright. And that's part of why I don't tell him what's wrong, because I know it'll break his heart to hear."

"You're not medicated, are you?"

He shook his head. "Can't afford it, and can't afford to tell Daddy about it. And maybe it's stupid but by the time I realized that maybe it would've been better to just tell him, I was already in too deep. Now all I can do is try not to get sick." He had to pause for a rough coughing fit. I tried to make myself believe that if he had gone so long without hacking, then maybe he was getting better. Or at least not getting worse.

"You… You said you contracted it when you were fifteen. That was when…"

"We met, yeah. When I got tested that day I came up positive. That was in the time that Daddy was still trying to get me dependent on him, so when I'd misbehave, he'd kick me out briefly so I could learn how lost I was without him. That's what you saw at the Monroe."

Events two years old were starting to click together. I nodded slowly. "And you care about this guy because he broke you and made you rely on him from a young and impressionable age."

"No," he was quick to defend. "I care about him because, even what he is and what he's doing, he's always been good to me. He gave me a safe word to shout out whenever one of the customers gets a little too out of hand. I can't tell you how many times he's come and saved me from them, saved my life."

"And for all the times he's saved your life, he's just gonna be all the more crushed when he realizes there's something going on that he can't save you from." He looked honestly lost at the realization, somewhat brokenhearted. "I think you should tell him."

He swallowed hard and coughed a few times. "I-I'll think about it. In… In the meantime, will you… still stay with me, Dan…?"

I took a moment to think everything over, compile everything I'd learn in that last half hour or so. Then I looked to him, into his sad, tired blue eyes, and I just couldn't be mad at him even when I knew I should be. "Okay, yeah. Don't worry, baby, I'm here."


	13. Chapter 13

When Phil went back to work that night, he already knew my stance on the issue. He knew that I really didn't like the idea of him going back to servicing those men, because he was still sick, and because he could spread the HIV to more potential victims. And I hated calling them victims here, because that wasn't really what they were at all. They were disgusting, sleazy men taking advantage of a barely legal teenage boy's warped sexuality. And yet I was supposed to feel bad because they were being exposed to a virus that they may as well have exposed Phil to in the first place. Maybe Phil's idea wasn't too far off, thinking they deserved it. I wouldn't say it's the right way of thinking about it, or that it justified anything, but I could at least start to understand where he was coming from.

Still, I didn't like it. He was trying to convince me and himself that he was all ready to get back to work, but I wasn't buying it. I put a hand on his forehead, feeling the predicted heat. "You're still really sick. I really don't think you should be going back to this. Uh, not yet, anyway."

He smirked and kissed me sweetly, and I couldn't help but frown a bit when his lips pulled away all too quickly. "I already told Dane I'd be fine."

"And you really think he believed it? I didn't. I don't think you did, either." I stood up to stand in front of him, looking down, hoping I had enough stature to look somewhat intimidating enough to change his mind. If that didn't work, I could hope this would. "You're sick, and need to rest for a while. If you don't, you'll get worse; and given your condition, if you get worse, you'll probably die." I huffed out a breath. "I don't want you to die, Phil. I really, really don't. And I don't want you going back to working for that bastard."

"Didn't we discuss this last night, Dan? Dane takes good care of me. The least I could do is keep my word to him, and get back to work tonight." He sounded irritated, but I had to ignore his tone if I wanted to get through to him.

"I'm sorry. I can't let that happen."

"And what are you gonna do about it."

I had to make a hasty decision. It might be rash, but it was the only way I could get him out of a life like this. He'd thank me for it in the end.

I turned and headed out the door, ignoring as Phil called hoarsely after me. I heard him lapse into a coughing fit, but didn't turn back like I wanted to, to go help him. I headed to the room we'd previously been staying in –the room where Dane and the girls were still living. I rapped my trembling fist against the door, before I could change my mind.

Dane opened the door and glared down at me. I swallowed hard, nerves taking over and the words tingling in my mouth. "What do you want, kid?" he asked tiredly.

I didn't mean for the words to be blurted out so suddenly, but once they were said I couldn't take them back. "Phil has AIDS."

There was a long moment of silence and I already regretted my decision. Dane let out a humorless laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and he went back to the room where Phil and I had spent the night. I followed quickly behind; I wanted to tell him I was lying, that it was a joke, but in the back of my mind I knew no good would come out of that, either. There was just no way to avoid this awful situation. All I could really do was keep my mouth shut and let the two of them settle it.

Phil was slumped in the open doorway, coming down from another fit, and Dane towered over him a little too closely. I couldn't see them very well from several feet away, but I was too nervous to get closer. I watched as Phil's eyes started tearing up and he fell into another weak fit of coughing, looking pale and flushed and like he might vomit.

I half-expected Dane to hit him, but his hands never left his side. All I made out was a simple, forlorn sounding statement. "If this gets out you're gonna be a threat to my business…"

Phil looked about ready to fall to his knees and beg to stay, and I felt like a disgusting human being. I couldn't believe what I'd done, that I'd betrayed him and his trust like this. I wanted to cry from the guilt but I didn't let myself do so. Now was not the time to be selfishly piteous; I had no one to blame but myself, and Phil was now paying the price. All I could do was try to convince myself that this was what was best –but if that was true then why did I feel so dirty?

Nothing else was said. Phil went stumbling out of the doorway and went past me. I could tell by the set wetness in his eyes that he was trying to stay strong when he knew he was about to break. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, just to help him down the balcony and down the stairs. I was honestly amazed when he didn't try to pull away from the person who'd forcefully yanked him out of the only life he knew. I selfishly liked to believe that this meant I'd done the right thing by him, by both of us.

We got to the sidewalk and just started walking. I worried Phil might get sicker in the cold but there wasn't too much I could do to avoid it. It made my chest hurt to think of him suffering further for this.

An idea struck me then. "Let's sit down for a bit," I suggested, trying to sound sweet and soothing so as not to agitate his fragile state. He didn't respond, just sat down on the bench beside me, curling in on himself a bit. I rubbed his back and discreetly watched the parking lot of the motel, waiting anxiously for Dane to leave. I watched what I knew to be his car pull out and leave. I smiled and turned to Phil.

"I'll be right back, okay? Just stay here, try to… calm down a bit." He nodded shallowly and I headed back to the motel, going up the stairs two at a time and walking briskly to where I knew I'd find the girls. I knocked and waited.

Angel answered. She paused for a long moment. "Daddy told us what happened. Is Kitten okay?"

I had to be honest here. "No, I don't think so. He's still really sick and has nowhere to go now. Neither of us have any money and if he stays exposed to this weather, he's probably- probably gonna die."

She gasped, frowning deeply. "Oh god… How- How can we help?" She sounded eager, and over her head I saw all the other girls perked to attention.

"We just need some money –I swear I won't spend any of it on myself, he just needs to get somewhere warm before his illness gets worse. If- If we could just have at least some of what you girls have now, we won't ask for any more. I promise." I had to stay hopeful, had to believe that they'd want to help their friend even if it meant giving up what little money they had.

Angel turned to the others and, slowly but surely, they all nodded in understanding, and went to get their cash. In all they brought me eighty dollars –"Two nights' work," Sunny said. I put it away in my pocket, and thanked them profusely. "Take care of him," Shiba made me promise, and I headed back to find Phil, to get him that coat I'd been wanting for him.

I found him half-conscious on the bench, already worse than I'd thought. I bit my lip, staring down at him and mind racing for what to do. I had no money for him to stay in the hospital, but after the coat, I'd have enough for bus fare, and a trip to the clinic.


	14. Chapter 14

I want to say that Phil got better. I want to say that more antibiotics and a few days in the hospital cured him of his immediate illness, and he started to be medicated for the underlying autoimmune disease. I want to say that he never had to go back to Dane, and we both got minimum wage jobs and lived in a motel across town, until we got promoted high enough to afford a small apartment. I want to say that we got to start a happy life together, by each other's side and slowly falling deeper and deeper in love. I want to say we eventually got married and adopted two puppies and lived long lives and died in old age when we were ready.

But none of that ever happened.

We got to the clinic when my parents weren't around, thank god. Phil got checked out and then transferred to an actual hospital. Medicine didn't do shit. It took two more days for the illness to worsen to pneumonia. I sat beside him for a few days, not leaving his side and telling him it would be alright when I knew and he knew that it wasn't. He insisted on holding my hand still, and I gladly complied. His grip was weak and only grew weaker as the days dragged on, but he never let go. He was still holding my hand when he died.

It was tragic, of course, but I didn't write this story to mourn his death. I wrote this to show the life of a kid thrust into horrible circumstances in this world in which people are so content to pretend that this kind of thing doesn't happen every day. But while this is a tale exploring what goes on in the city after dark, it's also an incredibly personal one. I loved Phil. I still do, even if I never got the courage to tell him before it was too late. But if he's out there, somewhere, I hope he knows that I do love him, and always will. I've moved on in the years since –I'm married to a wonderful man and we adopted two puppies and we'll probably live long lives and die in old age when we're ready. But someone was never given that chance for a decent happy life. This is for him, and this was his story.


End file.
